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by MaverickWerewolf



Category: Original Work, Wulfgard
Genre: Also the getting warm trope, F/M, How many vore tags can I put, My style of vore 101, Non-sexual vore, Protective vore, Romance, Romantic Vore, Soft Vore, Soul Bond, almost freezing to death, and then fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-07 12:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19085143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickWerewolf/pseuds/MaverickWerewolf
Summary: Struggling against a snowstorm, with only an invisible tether between souls as an anchor, Caiden searches for a missing Sadja - only to find her freezing to death.





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tafferling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafferling/gifts).



**T** he blizzard had only gotten worse. Cold like this had a tendency to bite deep and settle in all the way to the bone. Especially through wet clothes, and there wasn’t a lot of chance keeping anything dry in these conditions.

On the one hand, he wished he was somewhere without wind whipping in his ears. On the other hand, Sadja, who hated the cold like a personal nemesis, was out here somewhere. A frigid gale was far less trouble to him than it was a reckless little thief.

 _His_ reckless little thief. And he’d find her.

Caiden had been tromping through snow up to his shins for a while now, heavy boots ploughing a path in his wake. Hopefully the storm wouldn’t cover it completely by the time he was leading Sadja back down the mountainside. Or carrying her – whatever he had to do.

Not that he was sure he’d be doing that anytime soon, conditions being what they were.

Looking through the dark cover of a night with no moon or stars was hard enough on its own. Looking through that with a snowstorm piled atop it was even worse. He could barely see his own hand when he held it before his one eye to shield it from the tiny shards of icy snow, furious pellets whipping and nipping without mercy.

Not that he had to _see_ her. He’d feel it well enough when he got close.

Felt it now, too – a furious tugging, dragging like a hook in his navel trying to lead him somewhere. Something in him full of fear, anxious at the idea of dying, and pushing and pulling him forward. Something his, but not really. He’d only claimed it, refused to let it out, and made it his own. Right now, it sat like a vibrating ball of nerves stuck fast in his stomach.

At least until it shot up to his heart, which itself went straight to his throat, when he saw a small shape curled up in a ball, dark against the pale white-blue night snow.

The pounding in his ears almost outdid the furious wind howling past him as he picked up the pace, barreling toward the little silhouette – boots crunching so loud there was no way she wouldn’t hear, if she was still conscious – until he stopped by her side and dropped to one knee.

“Sadja?” he said, one hand already on her shoulder and gently pushing her, the other swiping down her covered cheek. She’d worn some gear, at least. Clothing around her head and neck, over her nose and mouth…

One amber eye peeked open just enough to stare at him. A touch of honey in the midst of all the black and blue. Caiden didn’t need light to see the color of her eyes. Wasn’t very hard for someone to conjure up their favorite color, even against the darkest of nights.

But she was weak – very weak. It wasn’t like Sadja to be weak.

Caiden’s jaw tensed. _Shit._

“Voros,” she mumbled. Her voice was weak, too. Drifting. “Took your sweet time.”

He huffed. Looked her over – felt her over for wounds. Found nothing, not except plenty of soaked-through and freezing clothes, and a heart beating slowly enough it made his own hammer faster trying to compensate for it. Hard enough to kick against his ribs.

Caiden got his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, standing on creaky legs that protested another trek across a mountain, whether there was a blizzard or not. But he wasn’t in the mood for protests.

“Cold _sucks_ ,” she murmured, face halfway buried in all the furs he wore. “M’never going near mountains again.”

“Yeah,” he halfway grunted, turning back down the path he’d come. “Think you can stand?”

“Frick snow with a rusty spoon,” she was muttering. She paused then. “Nh.”

One of those sounds she always made. _Whatever_ that _means,_ he wanted to say, but he waited and listened as a pair of violently shivering arms appeared from the haphazard piles of cloth she must’ve thrown over herself trying to keep warm, and she stuffed them around him as far as she could reach.

Then she finished, “Can’t feel my bloody legs.”

“You’re freezing,” he said.

“No? Didn’t notice.”

His eye twitched and he readjusted her in his arms, tried to hold her closer, for all the good it did. She kept her own arms latched around him like vines on a tree, stubborn and holding on tight. Good sign, at least – she had strength left.

 _Keep her talking._ Maybe he could keep her conscious. Long enough to find some shelter, get her warm—

“You find anything up here?” he asked. Reaching, fishing for anything for her to say, but it was a start.

“Yessir.”

“What?”

“More. Fricking. _Snow_.”

He glanced down at her. _Right_ _…_

She shivered worse. That was good. Maybe they had a little more time.

Caiden only just made out the remains of the thick path he’d carved along the mountain, but even that wouldn’t last long, as hard as the winds blew. For every foot of snow he managed to get through, another foot blew down from the sky to cover his tracks.

It’d be easy to get lost out here. Too easy.

Not like he had much choice.

“Talk to me,” he ordered, tightening one arm around her. “Tell me something.”

“I dunno any bedtime stories, Voros,” she mumbled. Words slurred. Breathing slowly. And his mind raced all the harder, slipping into levels he might’ve called _frantic_ or bordering on it, if he still had an outsider perspective on this.

But he didn’t. All he had was just that: frantic.

“Then tell me how much you hate the cold.” His hand squeezed her shoulder, slid up to the nape of her neck and squeezed that harder. “C’mon. At least start swearing. I know you can do that much.”

 _Crack_.

The mountain. Not Sadja.

It cracked, popped like a bad joint, then like thunder that echoed far across the sky as something overhead gave way to come crashing down the mountainside. Deafening, shaking the whole world as it went.

An avalanche.

He almost wasn’t sure if it was good or bad luck when he watched the whole thing unfold before them instead of on top of them. Waves of rolling snow crested down the narrow paths and jagged rocks, kicking up cloudy plumes of white that reached high enough into the ink-black sky and blinded him still worse.

So much for going back.

“What wassat?” Sadja mumbled, trying to turn her head, but Caiden’s hand pressed harder and kept her face close against his warmth.

“Nothing,” he said, turning on the spot and trekking closer toward the side of the mountain itself instead. Maybe there’d be something, anything. An alcove big enough to shove the both of them into and get away from the wind. Or even a cave spacious enough to try making a fire, get her out of those wet clothes…

And into what?

 _You didn_ _’t exactly prepare for this._ And he’d always liked to think of himself as prepared.

Sadja mumbled into his chest, “’Nothing,’ my arse…”

He grunted.

“Got a nice arse, don’t I?”

“Yeah.” He cut a quick look down at her. “That what you want to talk about?”

Something in him wondered if she was delirious, or if she was just… being Sadja. Hard to tell at this point. All he’d felt from her, and _still_ felt from her, was cold. Cold, fear, and maybe a little too much confusion for his liking. The delirious was still a shaky _maybe._

But she kept shivering, so he wanted to think she wasn’t that bad off.

Problem was, there was no damn shelter. He reached the rocky cliffs, stuck close to them – didn’t help with the wind. That was slicing toward them from the wrong angle for the mountain to block it.

Meantime, Sadja stopped shivering. Her arms around him loosened until they were only draped around his neck, fingers knit weakly together at the base of his skull.

From out of the whiteout ahead arose a formation of stone just tall enough to break the wind. Caiden made a beeline for it, staggering a shoulder into the rock and sinking down, taking a few breaths and shifting Sadja in his arms. Reaching up, he pulled her hands from around him and tucked them close against her chest.

“Sadja— don’t do this to me. Stay awake.”

He pulled the cloth down from over her face, and pulled his own down, too. That made her eyes flutter open again, giving him what passed for a vaguely amused look. Only he didn’t feel it. Not for himself, and not from her, either. Any part of her, inside or out.

“That an order?” she murmured.

“Hell yes it is.”

She paused then and seemed to realize what had changed. “Why you put me down, Voros?” Sadja leaned her face into his chest again. “I like being carried and all.”

Something in him twisted. Writhed in inadequacy – _inability._ A feeling he’d tried his best to make rare for him. Training and fighting his whole life, all this skill and strength, but he couldn’t fight the cold.

“I can get us to shelter. I could find some,” he said, glancing her over yet again, “but I need more time.”

“What’s stopping you?” she halfway slurred, motionless. Not shivering. Not even a bit.

He rubbed her shoulder through all those wet clothes, the most hopeless and primitive attempt to warm someone. And something in him unwillingly answered her, saying, _You._

But _he_ didn’t – not out loud. Not that he had to. She picked up on it just as easily.

“So…” she took a long, slow breath as her eyes fell shut again. “What we gonna do?”

Caiden sat there, something burning in him. Frustration, even rage. Helplessness. He _hated_ it. He didn’t _do_ helpless. There had to be something.

“I’mma freeze,” she mumbled almost casually now. “You won’t freeze though. Bet you can’t freeze.”

He’d probably starve to death first, some random section of his almost-always-hungry mind supplied lamely while he sat there, hands squeezing, searching, trying to figure out some way to fix everything. He just had to _fix_ it. He wouldn’t lose her. Not like this.

Not ever.

Then he paused. His mind crashed to a halt like hitting the side of the mountain. That actually made her somehow pull her eyes open and try to stare at him. Something in his soul must’ve stirred, nudged the piece of hers in him enough to wake her.

She even managed a lazy, “Huh?”

Caiden didn’t answer. Without a word, he started pulling off a few layers of her wet clothing, and she blinked at him in a daze.

“Never thought _I_ _’d_ be the one to say now’s not a good time,” she remarked like she’d found a bit of strength. “I’d hate to see you freeze it all off.”

“Not the plan,” he said almost tersely.

Focusing, thinking only about two things. Two goals: _get her warm, keep moving._ He huffed. _Find shelter._ Three goals. Then came food… Four goals.

_One thing at a time._

She made a weak face, like she tried and couldn’t actually feel enough of her own face to pull off much of an expression. “Nnnno,” she managed, blinking at him, icy lashes trying to freeze her eyes shut. “That wouldn’t even _work_.”

She squinted. He stopped long enough to stare at her. All she did was stare back.

“Barking mad, that’s what you are.”

Caiden gave her a long, _very_ long, look before saying, “Yeah. I must be. Luckily for me, so are you.”

Then he resumed peeling off the wet clothes, all the way down to her skin. Careful to make sure none of it was too frozen to remove – which it wasn’t. Everything came off easily.

But the touch of her frigid skin sent ice up his spine, even colder than the blizzard still raging around them. His eye cut to her face again as he got most of her clothes off. She stared at him from under half-shut lids.

Stared. Didn’t make a remark, not even about this. That was as good a way as any to tell she was fading fast.

Caiden scooped her up in one arm just long enough to push all the soaked clothes off him and into a pile before depositing her back in his lap, putting a finger under her chin so she’d look up at him.

“Take a deep breath,” he said, “and trust me.”

All he got in response was a quiet, “Mh…”

He helped her sit upright in front of him, moved her arms from where she’d been fidgeting vaguely with numb, blue fingers. When she tried to rearrange herself again, he gave a low, commanding growl and pressed her arms back flat against her sides. She stayed still after that.

All this before he finally opened his mouth wide – wide enough to get his jaws around her head.

Turned out swallowing those Venator gut-stones was a little easier than swallowing Sadja, but that wasn’t stopping him. Once her head touched the back of his mouth, that the start he needed.

One swallow, one strong tug from his throat, was all it took to get her in up to her midsection, her body snug in his gullet that stretched to make room. Holding her arms at her sides while she stopped squirming, he lifted her up enough to make it just a little easier. A second hard, strong swallow got her hips down. And by the third, her legs fit inside, smooth against his throat just before she disappeared entirely and continued squeezing down through his chest.

Didn’t take long for her weight to start filling his stomach – and steadily fill it out. It made room for her, and it _kept_ making room, prompting him to quickly pull apart the clasps of his almost skin-tight chainmail before either it broke or it left Sadja stuck halfway in the bottom of his gullet.

All of her fit inside, spilling out from the tight confines of throat and stretching him more and more. Caiden sat there for a moment, now that all of her was curled up neatly – and tightly – in a place that’d _grown_ , to say the least, to accommodate her comfortably. And then some.

Maybe it’d been a stupid idea, yet it didn’t hurt. Wasn’t even uncomfortable. He even caught himself liking it.

And there were those who’d tell him Sadja being around at all was his stupid idea to begin with. The same ones who wondered why he’d let her fit herself into his life. Maybe there was something poetic in everything inside him being willing to change just to fit her, too.

Now wasn’t the time to get philosophical.

He rested a hand on his stomach and waited. Focused. Felt her heartbeat, felt her breathing, and those brought him some measure of comfort. Having the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders against him, her weight inside him serving well enough to remind him she was still there – and she couldn’t run off.

 _Overprotective_ was the word that came to mind, though he preferred to nix the ‘over-.’

She didn’t say a word – probably unconscious, but at least she was alive, safe, and she was getting warm. Best he could hope for right now. One thing was for sure: she was a hell of a lot warmer than _him._

Kicking away the wet clothes he’d taken off her, he got to his feet again, allowing a second to adjust to having his little thief curled up in his stomach. He got used to it fast, or at least he made himself, straightening up and turning back into the storm. Lifting an arm in front of his eye again, he began carving a new path through the great abyss that was the blizzard – a path no one would find.

It’d been a while now since he’d traveled alone. But anyone who had been with him – Tom and the others – following him up here was unlikely, unless Tom had an even better nose than he gave him credit for. Or unless they got lucky, and he didn’t tend to do that often. Sadja, though, maybe. Not that her luck had much held out here.

Chances were, Caiden would be tracking their way back down the mountain in the morning and meeting the others halfway, along with a barrage of questions. Not something he looked forward to.

He wasn’t sure how long he walked. Struggled against the biting wind and freezing gale, cutting into any bare skin he dare leave open to it, cold piercing it like a thousand tiny daggers. Eventually, it convinced him to rearrange one of the scarves around his neck, throwing it halfway over his head until only his one eye remained uncovered. No reason to let the left side of his face freeze when he had nothing to use there, anyway.

To his right, an even heavier shadow dipped into the darkness of the mountain: an opening. A cave.

Caiden stopped, pivoted slowly, and started toward it. Each long, strong step pushing through the snow was a little wearier than the last. Slower and heavier as his joints tried to freeze, literally, but it didn’t dampen the ever-burning fire still hot in his core. Hot and keeping Sadja warm.

Her awkward, uneven weight in him should’ve been a burden, especially trying to walk, and _especially_ trying to walk through a storm. To anyone else, maybe it would’ve been. But right now, it was the only comfort he had – and what kept driving him forward.

As he reached the cave entrance, the ringing in his numb ears from the wailing snow deafened him even worse than the storm had. Caiden took a deep breath, but he didn’t let himself stop. He plunged deeper, just far enough into the cave for the wind howling at his back to grow just a little quieter. His skin tingled in relief from the ripping gale that’d reached all the way through the clothing, the leather, the furs, everything he wore.

Reaching into a satchel on his belt, he struck his flint. Once, twice. Thrice. Enough times to light the cavern up and let him glance around, take everything in, and make sure he wouldn’t have to try wrestling a bear while he had Sadja for a passenger. Not that he minded, if that was what it came to.

No bears, though, and not anything else, either. So he found a far corner and lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the wall and breathing out a long sigh.

Nothing in here but him and the blizzard wailing like a lost soul outside. And in _him_ , Sadja’s slow breathing. Even in the storm, he’d kept focus on it – it was impossible not to when it happened in there. Now, her breathing had evened out to an acceptable point.

Caiden opened his eye again and glanced around, let his gaze wander to the blue-white stare of the cave entrance off to his right, a bright glare even in the night. It was the only thing he could see in a world that was otherwise pure darkness.

Silence gathered like pressure in his ears until he dared himself to say aloud, “Sadja?”

No answer. No movement, either – only her soft, rhythmic breathing, gentle against the inside of his stomach. And, with it, the steady beating of her stubborn little heart. He felt that, muted but detectable, trotting along after his own in a beat still a little too quick.

So Caiden rested his head against the wall, put one hand on his bulging belly, and took a few slow breaths to give her frantic heart something easier to follow.

 

 

 **T** here was warm, then there was whatever this was. _Hot_. Not in a bad way, though. Engulfed by a furnace, regardless, but she’d been freezing her nose right off her face – feeling in that had gone hours ago – so this was better. Intoxicating, more like; the kind of warmth that was made for napping.

Arguably. Didn’t make it less weird. Or less… What would a word be? Fleshy? That made it sound terrible. Really it was more like a hammock that didn’t try to smother her or dump her out on her arse.

A very _dark_ hammock, not the sort one could stretch out in much at all, and a bit on the wet or slimy side, but supportive. Supple, even, conforming around her when she squirmed, and giving when she pushed out from it, so it must’ve also been pokeable.

She lifted a finger and started poking. That earned her a sort of huff-snort and lots of shifting.

“Morning,” the… _everything_ said in a deep rumble all around her. Everything sounded just like Voros, probably because everything _was_ Voros.

Sadja made a face. Now there was a strange thought.

Almost as strange as realizing that sturdy, rhythmic thudding somewhere close over her head must’ve been his heart beating like a war drum, or thinking about the way the would-be sack she was in gently squeezed inward around her for half a second – just enough to make her go tense.

Her tension made Voros hold his breath; she felt it, heard it. And the moment she relaxed again, he exhaled.

“You tensed,” her Voros-world said, as if that’d horribly bothered him for some reason. “What was that for?”

“I’ve a right to tense, no? Elves weren’t meant to be in stomachs.” She poked again.

Voros huffed. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

“And _you_ _’re_ feeling squishy, which isn’t much like you. Always knew you were soft under that stony outside.”

He grunted, but Sadja had the advantage of a little bit of her soul in _his_ soul, because he did always like eating things – including souls, namely part of hers – to tell her that’d amused him just a little. It felt like a little tickle at the back of her neck.

But all he said was, “Very funny.”

She resumed her poking, only this time she used one finger to start tracing random lines about on the inside of his belly, in the general direction of _up_. That got her another grunt, kind of a low and decidedly halfhearted _Stop it_ sort of grunt, and a good deal of squirming followed by something very much like a snort. Trying to lighten her touch even earned her a snicker. A _snicker_.

Ticklish. His insides were ticklish right about there. Sadja tilted her head and grinned.

“Oh, Voros, you just made a _terrible_ mistake.”

“Yeah, I did. I saved your life.”

They both paused then, right about the time she felt something large gingerly press in at her – it was his hand. It stayed there and didn’t move, so she put her own hand against it and pressed back, tried touching through his body all around her. Except they were _already_ touching, and couldn’t be _not_ touching, in fact, but – still.

Silence fell, and for a moment, neither of them moved. His heart kept beating, hard and steady.

And his hand still didn’t budge: an unspoken but firm, _Don_ _’t do that again_ , when it came to almost getting herself dead. As if she needed the hand to tell her that with his soul practically burning it into her. Maybe now more than ever, with the closeness. Closer than anyone ever really had a right to get – not that this didn’t transcend ‘close’ into something… Closer. Closest. Beyond close.

Quietly, Caiden huffed, but Sadja still didn’t move. Maybe her half-frozen brain was just very creaky processing this. Shamefully so. She always thought very fast, of course.

And now there was something all deep about being swallowed, especially if you asked all that smoldering, almost intoxicating intimacy in the soul all around her – not to mention the body heat – like this meant some sort of infinite amount to him. Like this meant even more to him than anything else really had.

There was definitely a ‘deep’ joke in there somewhere, and Sadja absently fished for it. There was also a joke about how much he loved food… Or maybe it was a joke about how much he loved her. Which, after all that’d happened, he’d proven yet again wasn’t something to be joked about at all.

Now she was getting all sentimental. Here, in a stomach, the last place someone ought to get sentimental in. Or was it? There was something about it she couldn’t really put a finger on. Him, doing this. Hauling her about inside in his own body. Turning his stomach into… What?

She already thought of him as _home._ Maybe this was simply turning it literal. She didn’t need to ask to know that was how _he_ felt.

Finally, she let her hand slide down and tilted her head up in the general direction of his head, for all the good it did.

“Where we go from here, then?” she asked.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

Sadja paused, pressed one ear against what she judged to be the stomach wall facing out instead of toward his innards, and tried to listen. That got a shiver to run up right up Voros’s spine, and he breathed out a puff of air that confirmed to her just how sensitive he was in here.

“Can’t hear much,” she said, “but last I looked, there was a blizzard out there.”

“It’s still there. It’s not any calmer, either.”

She frowned. Then… “Say, Voros.”

“What?”

“Why’d you swallow me naked?”

He paused like someone’d jammed a rock into the gears in his head, and he shifted position a little.

Then he said flatly, “Logistics.”

Sadja blinked. “What in Hela’s half-rotted face is that supposed to mean?”

“Carrying you was enough, and swallowing a pile of frozen clothes wouldn’t have gotten either of us warmer.”

She hummed. “No, _I_ see, you wanted me to be naked when you spit me out. It’s top-notch planning, I’m actually a little proud.”

 _Huff,_ he answered.

“I’ll be all slick already, see, ‘cause all the drool…”

“ _Sadja._ ”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think it.”

“Not when you were freezing to death.”

“But you did think it _now_.”

“You’re terrible.”

Nope, there it was; amusement, and very definitely this time. Well formed, too, tickling all along her neck. _That_ , he couldn’t hide, since this worked both ways. Most of the time, anyway. She couldn’t hide things, and true that often annoyed her, but it paid off.

“You always did want to eat me, admit it,” she prodded.

Caiden huffed. “I thought it might get you to shut up once in a while. Looks like I was wrong.”

“You hate it when I shut up, Gulpos. And you suck at lying.”

She got kind of a low, rumbled _Hrrmm_ in response.

 

 

 **H** e’d already felt her breathing, felt her heart – but feeling, and hearing, her voice was something he hadn’t quite been prepared for. How odd it was, feeling her every word gently vibrate inside him. Felt _right_ , though. Somehow. Which was something he wasn’t sure he was meant to think.

Caiden pulled that scarf away from the left side of his head. “You’ve got spare clothes back at the camp. That’s all you’ll need.”

“Camp? You carrying me _that_ far?” Sadja’s muffled voice remarked, and she shifted position inside him again, all her squirming making lumps that poked out from his already oversized stomach until she settled down again.

“You nearly froze. You’re not walking through another snowstorm.”

She paused, and he could almost see her frowning, but she didn’t say a word.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

Sadja scoffed. “I _was_ going to say it’s cozy and warm in here and no, I _don_ _’t_ want to freeze my tits off, could you give me a ride please, but—”

Caiden snorted. “But _now_ that wouldn’t be contradicting me, and that’s not you.”

“Nh.”

“What?”

“Who am I to stop you when you’re finally having fun?”

All he did was scratch his neck… And feel more than a little called out.

“Voros, don’t pretend you don’t feel all fuzzy and nice inside and you aren’t enjoying this a bit.”

He grunted.

“Soul bond,” she reminded him coyly.

“Not like _you_ aren’t enjoying it.”

“Me? Mh. Or maybe I’m curious to see how much you like belly rubs, and then I get to nap in here while _you_ do all the faffing about in the cold.”

Why that made Caiden smile, he wasn’t entirely sure, but it did. And then Sadja poked him again.

She added, “But I’m not paying any rent.”

“Pay it in belly rubs,” Caiden muttered under his breath.

Sadja half-snickered, half-scoffed some noise in shock. “I _heard_ that. You really think I wouldn’t hear that? Cheeky is good on you, you should wear it more often.” She paused. “Not that I can see it from in here.”

He didn’t answer that. Instead, he rubbed one hand over his stomach. Caressed it more than enough for her to notice, and that got her to squirm.

“You bloody love this,” she accused. Still amused, though, and her tone telling him he’d never hear the end of it.

He couldn’t help but snort.

Snow crunched outside. Caiden paused and stared at the cave entrance, squinting as a few dark shapes staggered through the wind and ice. All of varying heights, but there was no way he couldn’t recognize the one in the lead.

Caiden got to his feet, and his movement prompted Sadja to go still – if only briefly.

A few moments later and Tom stepped into the cave, trailing everyone else along behind him. He pulled his red scarf down from his mouth to show his jaw slightly agape, and Caiden folded his arms once he tracked Tom’s stare straight to his decidedly oversized stomach.

Kye came stumbling in a few seconds later and blurted, “Where’s Sadja?”

“Does he have to ask?” Sadja halfway whispered. “Not like you got those washboard-muscles on your belly right now, no?”

“Caid,” Tom said, “that is _not_ how you give hugs.”

They all stopped and stared. Caiden narrowed his eye and growled.

“What’re you looking at?”

Nobody spoke, and Tom showed his hands in spite of the stupid grin pulling at his face and the countless more comments doubtlessly tripping over each other in his head.

Behind him, Surandil leaned past Tom, and his eyebrows steadily rose.

“Fascinating.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Taff as an attempt to show instead of tell. Thank you for trusting me and giving me the courage.


End file.
